


five day sunshine (oneway trip)

by portraitofemmy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Curtain Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Science Nerd Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 12:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13341720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portraitofemmy/pseuds/portraitofemmy
Summary: Five days in the life of Steve and Bucky in the run up to Bucky's college graduation.





	five day sunshine (oneway trip)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wearing_tearing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/gifts).



> This fic is a present for Julia, because she's graduating and she lives on the other side of the planet so I can't celebrate with her in real life. So I celebrate her with fic! Parabéns, Juju <3

5 days before Bucky’s graduation, he gets a haircut.

It’s not like his hair is that long, Steve argues that morning. He’s sitting knees pulled up to his chest at the end of their bed, enjoying the pleasant breeze wafting in through the window as Bucky stares into the mirror on the dresser door like he doesn’t recognize himself.

“It is!” he protests, fingering his fringe where it’s drooping down into his eyes, lacking product or a hat to push it back. “I look like a sad hobo.”

“You don’t look like a hobo,” Steve replies, biting back a smile as Bucky gazes at him forlornly through the mirror. “It’s not even the longest you’ve had it. Freshman year, you could practically braid it.”

“That was intentional, though,” Bucky pouts, twisting his head this way and that. “I was protesting gender norms. I think. Why did I grow my hair out freshman year?”

With a fond sigh and an eye roll, Steve clambers off the bed. “Because your mom wasn’t making your appointments anymore.”

“Oh,” comes the soft reply, and Steve smiles, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist and resting his forehead against the back of Bucky’s neck. The difference in their height was more pronounced than it had been then, when Bucky’s hair had been down to his shoulders, and Steve was still a high school senior, quietly desperate that his best friend not forget about him.

“Well, that’s not an excuse anymore. I can’t graduate looking like I’ve been living under a rock.”

“Or like you’ve spent the last two months frantically finishing a dissertation on bio-robotics?” Steve supplies helpfully, and snorts when Bucky tries to wiggle out of his arms. “Fine, get it cut, but not too short okay?”

“Obviously,” Bucky replies, twisting around so he can loop his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Needs to be long enough for you to play with.”

“Obviously,” Steve agrees, stretching up on his toes for a kiss, which he’s happily given.

It doesn’t end up being too short, clipped neat on the sides and long enough on top to style back or to sink fingers into. He looks.... He looks grown up, Steve thinks, as they make dinner together that night. Bucky’s making pasta and Steve’s making salad and it feels grown up. 

Then Bucky accidentally splatters sauce all over himself, and Steve can’t help but laugh at him. Not too grown up then. Just enough.

__

4 days before Bucky’s graduation, he gets royally wasted. 

He didn’t even plan on it, but Clint and Natasha had showed up at their apartment and declared it their last night to make stupid decisions, and shoved a bottle of Grey Goose into Bucky’s hands.

“Excuse you, I plan to be making stupid decisions well into my 30s,” Bucky protests, while Steve snickers at him. 

Which leads to Steve texting Sam ( _‘come over, bring wine, need back up w/ buck’s friends’_ ), who turns up with two bottles of Barefoot Rose and Maria Hill about 30 minutes later. Which is fine, Steve likes Maria, even if she is a little bit scary, and her pre-law course keeps her busy enough that Steve doesn’t know her well. Steve raises a curious eyebrow at Sam, who just grins and shrugs without shame. Which, okay, Steve can get behind that. He likes them both, they deserve to be happy. 

Which is about all the attention he can give to his friend’s love life, before Bucky’s draping over his shoulder and smacking a kiss on his ear. “We did shots,” He says cheerfully, nuzzling Steve’s hair. “You smell good, Stevie. Hey, we should put music on!” 

“We probably should,” Steve agrees fondly, tipping his head back to look up at Bucky. He’s grinning broadly, looking over to where Natasha and Clint have produced juice from the depths of the fridge and are mixing something. “Why don’t you go make that whatever they’re drinking isn’t going to poison them, I’ll deal with the music.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees, and kisses Steve’s cheek again. “I love our friends, Stevie.”

“We’ll see if you still love them in the morning,” Steve mutters as Bucky wanders back over to the improvised drink table.

It takes him about 20 minutes to locate their shitty set of bluetooth speakers and get the music queued up on his phone. Sam wanders over to him with an extra glass of wine, which Steve takes, and then makes grabby hands for the phone. Steve’s more than happy to leave the responsibility of playlist creation in Sam’s capable hands, heading off instead to where Bucky, Nat and Maria are playing a card game and Clint is heckling them.

He settles into Bucky’s side, happy enough to watch and cheer Bucky on, feeling a warm glow from the wine and contentment at being surrounded by their friends. 

Clint ends up passing out on the couch before midnight, but that’s alright. Everyone pretty much expects that from him. Steve makes a mental note to make coffee in the morning, and finds him a blanket.  
__

3 days before Bucky’s graduation, he has a total meltdown.

The hangover is at least partially to blame for that, Steve will admit. Clint had downed the offered cup of coffee and half-heartedly helped Steve clean up, then vanished into the mid morning sunlight with a curse and a vow to never do vodka shots again. Steve, who has heard this pronouncement at least 4 times before, had at least managed not to laugh at him. 

Bucky stumbles out of the bedroom around 10:30, looking a little pale and extremely groggy, and he takes the proffered glass of water Steve holds out to him with a wordless smile. More of a grimace, really, Steve muses.

“Why aren’t you hungover?” Bucky asks, slumping into a kitchen chair.

“I didn’t do shots,” Steve points out, running his fingers through Bucky’s newly shorn hair fondly. He gets an appreciative groan in response, and he bites back a smile, bending down to kiss the back of Bucky’s head. “I’m gonna make you some eggs and toast, okay.”

“You’re my favorite boyfriend,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve does laughs at him.

Bucky scarfs down the food, then disappears to take a shower in the hopes of feeling mildly more human. Steve gets distracted by sketching, but after over two hours have gone by and Bucky hasn’t emerged from the bedroom yet, he starts to worry. 

Going to investigate, he finds Bucky sitting on the floor of their bedroom in a pair of boxers and nothing else, surrounded by what looks like every shirt he owns scattered on the floor. His eyes are rimmed red, his nose is red, and tear tracks streak down his face.

“Buck!” Steve cries, alarmed, and Bucky looks up at him with a dull confusion. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“I can’t find my shirt,” he mutters, and Steve blinks, looking around at the chaos around them.

“Which shirt?” he asks, confused and concerned, and Bucky sniffs, dragging his hand across his nose. 

“The black one with the... the thing on it,” he says, making a vague gesture with his hand, then looks up at Steve, a fresh wave of tears washing down his cheeks. “I’m not ready to be an adult, Steve. I can’t do this. I don’t know how to like.... buy insurance, or cook lobster, or anything.”

Comprehension dawns on Steve, and he carefully picks his way over until he can settle into Bucky’s lap, wapping arms and legs around him and letting Bucky rest his forehead against Steve’s boney shoulder. “Baby,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers into Bucky’s hair. “You’re gonna be fine. We figured out how to rent this place, didn’t we? We’re doing all right. You don’t have to know how to do everything right away. We’ll work it out together.”

“Yeah?” Bucky sniffles, rubbing his face against Steve’s t-shirt, and Steve would give him shit about rubbing snot all over his shirt if Bucky weren’t so obviously miserable.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, turning his head to kiss Bucky’s temple. “And hey, you don’t have to worry about being able to cook lobster, I’m allergic to shellfish anyway. One less thing to worry about.”

Bucky snorts weakly, and Steve smiles into his hair. “One less,” he agrees, and sighs when Steve runs his hand across the skin of his shoulders. “I’m glad I don’t gotta figure it out alone,” he admits, his tightening his arms around Steve in a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t gotta,” Steve agrees, letting his eyes fall shut. “With you til the end, remember?”

“Yeah. Til the end.”  
__

2 days before Bucky’s graduation, Steve has a total meltdown.

He’s not proud of it, but while Bucky’s been counting down to graduation, Steve’s been wrapping up his own finals. True enough, he’s got two or three weeks off before summer courses start, and even then he’ll only be taking classes two days a week, but he can’t really escape the fact that he’s still got to _take classes_.

He’s got a whole nother year left. Bucky’s done, he’ll be working a real job soon, he’ll be around other people who don’t have to worry about grades or finales or scholarships ever again and Steve’s _still stuck here_.

This shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it does, it really shouldn’t have. Bucky’s been a year ahead of him all their lives, started high school a year before he did, started college first. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been freaked out both of those times either, he had been. He’d been totally convinced Bucky would find new people, cooler people, people he liked more than he liked Steve, and he never had.

But this time... this time it felt different. It wasn’t really a fear of Bucky outgrowing him, not anymore. Three years in and Steve had never known he could feel as loved as Bucky made him feel. No, this time it was all about Steve wanting to walk with Bucky into this next phase of their lives, hand in hand, but he _couldn’t_. How silly would Steve’s problems seem, now, to Bucky and to himself? How did an overwhelming course load compare to trying to start a career? To building a life?

“I just want to be done,” he snarls, angry tears splashing down his cheeks, and he hates himself for acting so childish. “I want to be done with this bullshit, Buck.”

“You will be soon,” Bucky murmurs reassuringly, and his hand is so incredibly warm in Steve’s. Bucky, when he’s upset, likes to be cuddled, held close and comforted. Steve gets prickly like a cactus when it’s him, but he’ll take this much. Bucky’s fingers twine with his, Bucky’s knees press against his where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of the tiny room in their apartment which serves as his studio.

“It’s a whole year,” he whispers, looking up at Bucky through the teardrops caught on his glasses. “So much can happen in a year. So much is going to happen this year, for you.”

“And for you,” Bucky encourages, shaking Steve’s hand a little. “You’ve got senior exhibition and your practicum, and you’re submitted that comic for publication... don’t wish away this year, Steve, you’ve got so much coming for you.”

Steve sniffs, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his free arm around them. Bucky gives him a little smile, and pointedly refuses to let go of his hand. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he mutters, half-hearted, and Bucky gives him a smile that’s almost too understanding.

“It’s a lot,” he agrees, and Steve’s about to snap at him for being patronizing, but Bucky holds up his hand, heading him off. “It is at lot. But it’s also going to be amazing, Steve, and I’m going to be so proud of you. And if you think I’m not going to turn up at every single thing you do this year looking smug as all hell then I’m not sure you know me at all.”

Steve gives a weak little snort of laughter, smiling in spite of himself. “I know you,” he acknowledges, and Bucky squeezes his hand.

“Then you know you got someone in your corner. Just like I do. I’m not saying this year isn’t gonna be weird, it is. We’re gonna have to figure it out. But don’t wish away this year, Stevie. I wouldn’t have, as stressful as it was.” 

Steve nods, finally reclaiming his hand to scrub both of them over his face, wiping away the tears. “You owe me at least 4 all-nighters worth of support,” he says, mock serious, and Bucky nods solemnly. 

“I’ll even give you 5.”

__

The day before Bucky’s graduation, they don’t leave home.

They crank up the AC and bury themselves in a nest of blankets in their bedroom, wearing shorts and tanks and nothing else. Bucky’s skin is warm and smooth and already summer-golden under his hands, and Steve loves this man with his whole heart. Tells him so. Kisses the taste of his smile off his pretty pink lips.

Steve ventures out into the main body of the apartment for food, comes back with coffee and fresh fruit and a box of cereal they eat dry. They watch a standup routine on Bucky’s laptop that they both know and love and laugh until their stomachs ache. The sunlight creeps slowly across their bed, making the whole room glow, and they laze in it, touching and touched in turn. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Bucky murmurs, eyes closed, and Steve smiles from where he’s stretched out on his stomach, half on top of Bucky. He rakes his fingers through Bucky’s hair, loving the way it makes Bucky preen. 

“Let’s,” he replies, and leans down to steal another kiss. 

They wriggle out of their close and fuck in the early afternoon sunlight, open to each other and unashamed, lazy even in this, drunk on each other’s skin. Steve feels incandescent, he feels bright, illuminated by this connection, this intimacy they share and cultivate and protect every day. 

“Love you,” he breathes into Bucky’s neck, and laughs when Bucky does, so full of joy, delighted and happy. 

They shower together, after, even though their shower is really too small for it. Bucky’s dopy on affection, doesn’t seem to want to stop touching Steve even long enough to get cleaned up, and Steve doesn’t have it in him to deny Bucky this. 

They end up tangled together on the couch after, Steve’s legs across Bucky’s lap, Bucky’s hand resting warmly on his thigh, just under the leg of his shorts. “The next couple days are gonna be crazy,” he sighs, and Steve hums in agreement. Bucky’s got extended family flying in from Indiana to watch him graduate, which means they’re going to be busy with family stuff for a while. 

“They’re proud of you,” Steve points out, smiling when Bucky kisses his shoulder, just because he can, just because Bucky loves him. “I’m proud of you.”

“I know,” Bucky replies, a response to both statements, and when Steve brushes his damp hair back, Bucky smiles at him. “Let’s get pizza and see how much of Lord of the Rings we can watch?” 

“Sounds perfect,” Steve agrees, and steals another kiss. Because he can.

__

On the day of Bucky’s graduation, Steve vows not to cry.

It’s pretty much a lost cause, though. 

He spends the morning trailing behind Bucky as he rushes to get ready, presses a shirt and tie to wear under his cap and gown. Steve’s dressed up himself, short sleeve button up and bowtie, nice rust color pants without even a little bit of paint on them. Bucky calls him a hipster, leg bouncing nervously as they wait for Bucky’s parents to come pick them up, and Steve can’t do anything but shrug.

“You knew what you signed up for,” he teases, pushing his glasses up his nose, and Bucky snorts.

“I did,” he agrees, and reaches for Steve’s hand. Steve gives it, offers a reassuring squeeze. 

Steve sits with Bucky’s family, parents and sisters and aunts and uncles and a cousin or two, and his own mother. All together they take up almost a whole row, and Steve finds himself planted between Sarah and Winnie, each of them grinning and broadly as they wait, swapping reminiscences about Bucky as a boy. 

“Remember when he took apart George’s stereo, Lord we were so mad. Just look at where he is now,” Winnie sighs, tearing up, and Steve nudges her gently with his elbow. 

“You can’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry, and that’s gonna make Ma cry.”

“He’s not wrong,” Sarah says with a laugh, slipping her arm around Steve’s shoulder. Steve leans into it for a moment, then straightens up when the music starts playing. Bucky’s towards the front of the line as his class files in, and he catches Steve’s eye with a smile. Steve sticks his tongue out in response, and he imagines he can hear Bucky’s laughter, even from this distance.

Then it’s about 45 minutes of speeches, and honestly Steve couldn’t give a shit about those. It’s everything he can do to not actively zone out through the inspirational speaker, and the dean’s speech, and the president’s speech. He’s just starting to wish he’d brought a sketchbook with him, when the commencement addresses finally finish, and the university president begins to call forth graduates. 

Steve’s got his eye trained on Bucky as soon as he goes to line up. He looks nervous and excited in equal measure, black cap with the orange engineering tassel, a cheap little string dangling near his cheek representing everything he’s worked so hard for. 

It’s only when Sarah squeezes his shoulder that he realizes he’s teared up after all, and he snorts a little in embarrassment, wiping at his eyes. “I’m really proud of him, Ma,” he whispers to her, eyes still trained on Bucky as he moves up the line. 

“You should be,” is all she says, quiet and sincere. 

When Bucky steps up to take his diploma, the entire Barnes clan stands up to cheer and whoop for him, and Steve’s right there with them. Bucky grins at them, waving like the dork he is, and then it’s over. Steve claps and calls for Clint Barton a couple people after Bucky, and Natasha when her time comes, but impatience sets in quickly. Why does their school have so many students? He just wants to get to Bucky now. 

It’s almost 4pm when the ceremony wraps up, and the gathered friends and family can begin to file out. “How are we ever going to find him in this mess,” Winnie frets, looking around the press of people gathered in the parking lot. 

Steve’s not paying attention though. He has no trouble at all spotting Bucky in the crowd, rushing towards them with a grin on his face. Steve’s moving to meet him before he can think about it, jump up to throw his arms around Bucky in a tight hug. Bucky catches him easily, holding him tight, and Steve’s stealing a kiss, headless of the crowd. It’s only when Bucky laughs into his mouth that he realizes he’s knocked Bucky’s cap off, and that their families are watching them. 

Bucky puts him back down on his feet gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and Steve grins, cupping his cheeks. “You did it.”

“I did it,” Bucky agrees, smile so big it could dwarf the sun. Steve’s totally gonna cry again, he realizes, feeling so full of pride and love as he draws back to let Bucky greet his family. 

Sarah’s there at his side, Bucky’s lost cap in her hands, as he steps back. She places it on his own head with a smile, and Steve rolls his eyes. Bucky catches sight of them over his aunt’s shoulder, and laughs, bright and happy.

Steve reaches up, fingering the orange tassel. His own will be brown, a year from now, when it’ll be Bucky in the audience cheering him on. He knows soon he’ll have to return the cap for pictures, probably get pulled into a few himself. For now, though, he’s content to watch Bucky’s family crowd around him, overflowing with pride. He’ll have Bucky to himself soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [portraitofemmy](http://portraitofemmy.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to come cry about Sebastian Stan with me.


End file.
